


it's just you and i tonight, why don't you figure my heart out?

by swimthewholeriogrande



Series: if you wanna find love then you know where the city is [4]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Denial, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 19:32:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15825486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swimthewholeriogrande/pseuds/swimthewholeriogrande
Summary: Jack and Spot take their business outside. Meanwhile, Davey and Crutchie deal with Race's worsening condition and try to hold off Manhattan's revenge.





	it's just you and i tonight, why don't you figure my heart out?

**Author's Note:**

> I've gotten a really positive reaction to this series (and a lovely welcome to ao3) so thanks so much to everyone reading! Hope you enjoy

Outside the lodging house, it was only getting colder. The snow on Kelly's hat wasn't melting and Spot assumed he had the same white covering. He definitely felt freezing enough to be covered in the stuff; Jesus, how long had this winter been anyway? 

Kelly coughed and stamped his feet, clearly feeling the same chill. "Alrigh', Conlon." he said, voice gruff and hard, "You tell me why Race was sellin' with yous in the first place."

Damn it - this was the one question Spot hadn't really prepared for, assuming Kelly would just want to shout about territory for the hundreth time. He fixed his gaze on a tenement across the street and resolved to keep from looking Jack in the eyes for as long as possible. "He's a good kid." 

"He's not much older'n you."

"He's good company, alright?" Spot kept his voice snappy to hide how fast his heart was beating, terrified at being found out for what he and Race were when they were alone. Kelly could give one hell of a soaking. "He bets well. What's it t'you anyway?"

"He's one a'mine." Kelly's accent was getting stronger as he got frustrated, maybe because Spot still wouldn't look at him. "He should be sellin' in Manhattan, where he lives. Your boys is wild. I know he don't need that."

"You don't know shit." Spot swung around, breaking his own rule. "You don't know shit about Race or about my borough, and you don't gotta tell me that Race should have been in Manhattan tonight."

Oh God, his eyes were stinging, and Kelly was staring with an unreadable expression. Spot prayed the low light would hide the pain he couldn't. He knew it was his fault that Race was in there barely alive, he knew he shouldn't have let Race sell at Sheepshead in the first place, he knew that he shouldn't touch or be with or love him -

His thoughts ground to an abrupt halt when he felt Kelly's hand, warm and solid, clap down on his shoulder. Spot jerked to his full height to soak Jack for daring to even touch him, let alone when he felt as raw as exposed nerves - but what Jack said froze him in place.

"I know, Conlon. I seen you n'Race."

-

Davey's hands were being slowly dyed red, possibly permanently, as he changed the bandage on Race's arm after only ten minutes of him having put it on. The smaller boy seemed to have incredible amounts of blood to lose and no temperature limit. He was almost slippery to hold, and Davey had to hold him down more than a few times when Race began to thrash. He muttered, sighed and almost seemed to pray at times while still in his feverish sleep. Davey was running out of ideas.

He could hear Crutchie down the hall yelling, and the familiar thump of his crutch on the wall as he tried and failed to gain the attention of the other boys. Eventually Davey heard a door slam - Race half-reared off the bed at the sharp noise with a moan, flopping back down with a sickening thud - and Crutchie coming down the hall. When he came in, he looked worried.

"The boys is angry, Davey." he warned. "Ain't nobody but Jack's closest wanting to wait for him and Spot to sort this. They's talking about going to Brooklyn and soaking Conlon's newsies for revenge."

"This isn't some dime novel romance," Davey sighed, readjusting the one pillow they had for Race, "Racetrack's not dead." But he might be soon, he thought morbidly. "Tell Specs to put the little ones to bed already."

Thank God Les was with their parents. Davey had elected to stay with the newsies that night for - well, it didn't matter what for. Racetrack was lucky he had. 

Like he could read Davey's thoughts the disaster on the bed caught his sleeve, eyes open suddenly but still bright and blind. At the movement a cluster of devastating bruises on his chest pulled against his ribs. 

"Spot," Race gasped, and then he was gone again.

-

Spot was five feet away from Jack before he could catch his breath. This was his worst nightmare come to life - Kelly was gonna half-kill him or even actually kill him for being with Racetrack and even if he didn't, he'd make sure every newsie in Brooklyn knew his little secret. All Spot could do was hope he'd leave Race out of it, if he survived.

Even though there was no use denying it after that reaction, Spot reacted like always; with anger. "I don't know what you thought you saw, but it was nothing." he warned, but he was aware his voice sounded too afraid to intimidate. "Race is my friend, he ain't-"

To his horror, Spot's voice broke. He left his sentence dangling, open to interpretation, unable to finish saying that Race wasn't his, when Race was lying half-dead. He didn't have the heart to deny him when Race had always been the brave one in their relationship. Both boys knew they couldn't show their affections, but it had always been Race that wanted to push it, and Spot never let him to keep them both safe.

It hadn't worked in the end. Their relationship may not have been the direct cause of Race's injuries but it was the reason why Race was in Brooklyn.

"Spot. Spot." Kelly's voice dragged him from his panic. "It's okay."

"You know it ain't." Spot snarled back, mind whirling. "You lay one hand on Race and I'll -" 

"Davey!" Kelly yelled suddenly, and Spot thought he'd lost his mind before he saw Jack's tight, fearful face, remembered how tight those two had been since the revolution - and dared to take a step forward.

"Are you...?"

"Yeah, Conlon." Jack shoved his hands in his pockets, but at this point Spot could barely feel the cold. "We is. So...it's okay."

Both of them were bright red. This wasn't something Spot could ever have imagined discussing with his current biggest rival, but here they were and it was still dangerous to discuss this loudly so Spot moved in closer.

He stared at Kelly (having to look up slightly but that was besides the point) and tried to communicate an unspoken thanks, because there was no way in hell he was gonna say it out loud. "I ain't telling if you ain't telling." he said quietly, and Jack dipped his head, an agreement.

There was a moment of silence, broken only by a high, wavering howl somewhere far away in the city. Eventually Spot cleared his throat, feeling oddly embarrassed.

"But don't think this means you're getting the borders you want, Jackie. No way in hell you get half the bridge."

Jack's face split into a grin, all teeth and wild. "We'll see, Conlon. We'll see."

-

Now that Racetrack had begun to slip in and out of consciousness, Davey was growing a little more hopeful that he would survive this, but he wasn't sure at what cost. The shoulder he'd popped back into place still looked loose at the joint in a way it shouldn't, as if tendons had been split. There wasn't a damn thing Davey could do about that, or the sick black bruising spreading over his stomach. He'd seen internal bleeding before but never this bad.

Crutchie burst in for the third time in the last few minutes - where the hell were Jack and Spot? - looking harried. "Elmer's got the boys about to leave for the bridge." he gasped, exhausted from trying to shout over the crowd. "He said if Racer gets soaked, so does Spot."

"Jesus," Davey muttered, standing and heading the way Crutchie came, "I'll try. Mind Race, Crutch."

Down the hall there must have been at least fifty newsies ready to fight, led by Albert and Elmer - Race's closest friends. Davey could understand their need for revenge but he also knew that this would only accelerate the situation between the boroughs, and what kind of friend of Jack's would he be if he left that happen?

He caught Albert by the shoulder and pulled him roughly aside. "This is insane!" he protested. "How is this gonna help Race?"

Albert sneered, but Davey could see the face of a frightened little kid about to lose a friend. "We is gonna avenge him." he shouted, loud enough for the other boys to hear and react to. "Spot'll pay for this!"

"Will I?"

-

Spot could hear the Manhattan newsies vying for his blood long before he entered the room but when he did come in, a deathly hush fell over them. He suspected it was only Kelly at his side that stopped them from soaking him. Jack was glaring at a redhead, who almost wilted but then sprang back to life.

"Racer's dyin' in there cause of you!" he accused, scowling at Spot, who just shook his head, sick of the newsies and their imaginations.

"I brought him here, genius!" he replied. "I wouldn't've done it if I was the one who soaked him, would I?"

"Your boys were the ones who -"

"And I'll deal with my boys." The king of Brooklyn's voice took the room over like poison, making every boy in there cower just a little. Spot was sick of defending his every move and he was going to show it. He took a step towards the redhead, his words low and threatening. "You wanna tell me how to handle my boys, my borough, when you's can't keep track of your own shoes?"

Specs, who had infamously lost a boot in the river and had been seen by half of Brooklyn, went bright red. Kelly stepped forward as well.

"Spot is a guest." he said firmly. "I ain't loving it either but he helped Racer, so he can stay as long as he damn well pleases. You got a problem with that, you come to me."

There was silence again. Then out of nowhere the door slammed against the wall, sending half the kids in the room jumping, and Crutchie half-fell in.

"Jack, Davey, Spot!" He yelped their names in quick succession until it seemed like the whole world was waiting with baited breath for his next words, and then it was, "Spot...it's Race."

**Author's Note:**

> Bit of a longer one! There's one more part to the series and then I'll hopefully start something new if school doesn't kill me first


End file.
